


A Sealed Fate

by fuckinsteverogers



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dont judge me for my shitty attempt at writing about witchcraft, F/M, Fluff, Major character death - Freeform, Witchcraft, my bad - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 11:30:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17406119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckinsteverogers/pseuds/fuckinsteverogers
Summary: A coven of six Hereditary witches come across six Avengers dead on their property. The fight to revive one particular Avengers results in an undeniable connection, but will the witch leave her sisters to be with him?





	A Sealed Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Request: Witch/Warlock. Rowan and Steve Rogers.
> 
> I wrote this for AngrySchnauzer’s (on tumblr) If You Go Down to the Woods Today Challenge, but I had to delete my other blog for personal reasons (stalker) and this is my new one. I hope you like it if you didn’t read it when it was up on my other account.

The women all speak in hushed tones, whispering ingredients to each other; passing vials over the tables, clanking glasses together as they mix the concoction.

“Where did you put the Bergamot, Cecil?” Lucile whispers to her twin sister, moving her hands an inch above the vials sitting on the table.

“Your eyes are getting bad, Lucile,” Cecil hisses back, flicking her fingers at the Bergamot sitting below Lucile’s hands, sending the vial bellowing into her sister’s palm. “It was right there.”

“No fighting around the dead,” Rowan intervenes, shaking the bottle to mix the ingredients. The six women mix their concoction and then uncork the bottle, Rowan is the last to drink, staring mournfully at the man laid across her table. Blonde, beautiful, strong, and gone too soon.

“How they ended up on our property is beside me,” Gretel remarks, staring down at the beautiful redhead she has spread on her table. Hazel breathes a laugh, recorking her bottle and placing her hands atop the man she had shed a metal suit off of.

“That is because you don’t have the gift of sight, Gretel,” Hazel tells her, pressing her fingers into the chest and lower stomach of the deceased man. Beautiful beyond his years, and taken from here by something evil.

“I told you why they were on the property. You just don’t listen,” Ivory deadpans, following in Hazel’s footsteps and presses her fingers into the chest and lower stomach of the beautiful woman, she can sense the witch in her, while not natural, a witch none-the-less.

“Did I not say, ‘no fighting around the dead’?” Rowan glares at her coven, the women nod and shut their mouths, while Rowan opens hers to tip the potion down her throat and follow her coven’s actions.

She presses her small hands into the hard chest and lower stomach of the muscular man beside her, she feels the power within him, waiting to be revived; and she mourns for him despite not knowing him. Unfortunately, her overflowing empathy was just another side effect of her gifts.

“What if they are scared of us?” Gretel asks, still speaking in hushed tones, almost afraid to wake the dead. The thought makes Rowan smile, and push harder against the man she desperately wants to meet.

“The woman Ivory is bringing back is a witch. Not hereditary like us, but a witch still,” Rowan informs her coven, and Ivory smiles down at the beautiful woman overflowing with power. “They are not unaccustomed to power.”

All the women simultaneously huff out a breath and close their eyes, the air in the room begins to vibrate and all the women let every ounce of power within them flow from their cores to their fingertips and will the people gone before their times to come back, to greet them in the living world rather than the dead.

Lucile moves her hands to greet each other, avoiding the metal arm she forgot to move out of the way and pushes; as does the rest of the women, they push at the stomachs of the people, almost as to give CPR. The purpose- however- being to push the deadness that soaks their cores out from within.

Cecil’s is the hardest task of all, Rowan thinks as she pushes with all her might, a God is a tough one to kill and a tough one to bring back, but she has faith in her coven sister.

The air in the room stands still suddenly, as Gretel pushes hard enough for the black gunk to spill from the mouth of her redhead, and the woman flies up into a sitting position, coughing the black slime onto the floor; ridding herself of the death within.

Then follows Ivory and her witch, the men more stubborn than the women to come back from the abyss. The witch splutters black gunk all over Ivory’s skirt, and Cecil huffs out a laugh in her direction. Ivory doesn’t spend enough of a moment on it to care, as she pats the witches back and hands her the other bottle the women had prepared.

The witch looks at the women before her and drinks the bottle, her throat too sore to care where and why she was here.

Hazel is next, up on her tippy toes, pushing the older man’s stomach with all her weight, and he coughs once then twice, and then the black gunk overflows his mouth and rolls down the sides of his cheeks. Hazel helps him tip himself sideways so he can spit the gunk onto the floor, and rubs his back soothingly.

Cecil manages to bring the God back before Lucile and Rowan even make progress; the air in the room more than vibrates when the God awakens from death, it thunders and cracks with bright lightning, the sky outside goes from black to white in moments.

The gunk from within the God is much mightier than the rest, the thing being with immortals is that while they are harder to kill, they die harder, sinking the bottom of the abyss, and swallowing every harsh creature within.

It takes a few more moments for Lucile to catch up with her twin, but the one-armed man splutters a moment later, and she twists him to help in his expel of the darkness in his body. She strokes his cheek affectionately, and runs her fingers through his long hair, already attached to the man she brought back from the depths of the darkness.

All the women are consoling their counterparts as Rowan is still trying with the man of incredible beauty. She pushes and shoves at the darkness, but it won’t budge.

The older man is the first to question his whereabouts and the events of the night, and Hazel assures him the answers will come soon, as she watches her coven leader struggle with the man. Eyes filled with sorrow, she keeps trying, pushing at his soul, committed to bringing him back no matter how much of herself she had to give.

The bright, living eyes of the metal-armed man was the first to find the man Rowan was digging inside of, and his mouth fell agape.

“Steve,” He mutters, moving to get off of the table, and when Lucile stops him with hands pressing against his chest; the hurt in his eyes appears. “Is he dead?”

“Yes,” Hazel answers, rubbing a comforting hand down the back of her man as he turns to look at the greying skin of Steve. “But Rowan is the most talented of us all, she will bring him back.”

“Were be all gone?” The witch asks, looking at her counterpart. Ivory nods and runs her fingers through the ends of the witch’s hair, comforting her while she puts the puzzle pieces together.

“Yes, for a while actually,” Lucile interjects, the women are no longer speaking in hushed tones, the dead have awakened, minus one that Rowan is whispering hushed apologies to.

“How?” The redhead questions next, curious as to the lead to their death. Ivory fixes her eyes on the beautiful woman and shrugs her shoulders regretfully.

“I have a sight, but whatever killed you was beyond any form of evil that I have ever encountered. I couldn’t see past its rage,” Ivory tells the woman, laying a hand on the shaking witch before her.

“Bruce?” The older man questions, looking at the redhead with deep-set sorrow in his eyes. The redhead shakes her head as if to answer the question.

“Is Bruce human?” Ivory interjects, and when the redhead nods, Ivory shakes her head violently. “Whatever took your lives is not human and has never been human.”

“Ultron,” The older man says without hesitation, it’s not a question but a statement, he is certain of this ‘Ultron’ being the cause of their demise. The revived people share a collective look of sorrow for their previous life, and that is what it is now; a previous life and their new beginning has already started.

“Rowan, it’s not working. You’re going to suffocate his soul,” Cecil steps in moving away from the God that is hunched over and breathing heavily into his hands. She takes hold of Rowan’s hands and stops her movements; Rowan looks at Cecil in pure and utter sorrow, feeling all the emotions in the room surround her, and take her in their grasps.

“Give me the Aniseed powder,” Rowan demands, reaching her hands for Gretel who shakes her head and doesn’t move from the redhead. “I won’t repeat myself, sister.”

“I won’t let you do such a dangerous spell,” Gretel returns, a fire in her eyes; she holds the redhead’s hands and gives all her might to protect her head from Rowan’s control. “You can’t wear the worlds sorrows on your shoulders.”

“If he is not coming back, he won’t no matter how hard you try,” Lucile tells her the honest and heartbreaking truth, he is gone and he won’t come back. A loud sob fills the room, and Lucile comforts her metal armed man as he begins to cry, she notes the close relationship these men shared and feels her heart swell.

“He will come back. I will do whatever it takes,” Rowan shoots back, moving to get the Aniseed powder herself, no one stops her, knowing the power she holds over them; Rowan is kind and caring, but in times where a life is in question, she will be far fierier than the depths of hell.

“It’s dangerous, Rowan,” Ivory worries, lacing her fingers with her witch’s and looking at her leader with a regretful frown. “You know how hard the door is to close.”

Holding up a vial, Rowan creates two separate bottles, one of aniseed powder and water, and another with wormwood, basil, and heather. Rowan breathes a deep breath in and out before she shakes the bottle of aniseed, uncorks it, and drinks it. The aniseed burns her throat and causes her to splutter, but she takes it in for the sake of Steve.

Rowan breathes again, deep, and sorrowful, and places her hands back on Steve’s stomach. “I call upon the witches rise, across the seas and across the skies, to call upon all who died and take them from the other side. As I Will, So Mote It Be,”

The windows begin to shake suddenly, sending the recently revived into shrieks. The women console their counterparts and watch as Rowan’s red hair turns white, and her eyes roll back, and the body her hands are placed on begins to spasm.

“Is he going to be okay?” The metal armed man asks Lucile, she looks at him with wilful eyes and a sorrowful frown.

“There is no way to tell,” She says, cupping his cheek with her hand, and focusing his eyes on her to take away from the scene before him. “Your name, what is it?”

“James… Bucky,” He says, she smiles wide at him and he is struck by her beauty and he feels in debt to her, for bringing him back from that darkness that he can still see, the nothingness.

“I’m Lucile,” She replies, pushing her hand from his cheek to his hair and wills him to focus on her and not the sobs from Rowan.

Rowan feels the spirits surround her, pushing themselves at Steve, doing as she is doing with his soul, reaching into the abyss, and pulling him back. She can feel her hands around the dark, blackness of his spirit and she knows the danger of this ritual, but she also knows that it’s working.

She feels all the hands on her, of good and bad spirits helping her bring back this man, a man so vital to this world, and so loved by many. The coil that separates his soul from the darkness and the light snaps suddenly and she is thrown back as the man shoots up and vomits black like she’s never seen. She quickly uncorks the wormwood concoction and drinks it, muttering the spell to rid the spirits of this world.

“Evil be gone, send far away, I am protected, and out of harm’s way, As I Will, So Mote It Be,” Rowan mutters, into the bottle as she leans against the wall. Hazel rushes to the spluttering man and forces him to drink the potion to rid him of the darkness of death, while Rowan struggles to keep herself upright.

“Rowan, come on. You need to rest,” Gretel insists, taking Rowan into her arms. In all her dazed state, Rowan looks to the man she just brought back from death and finds his eyes already on her. The connection is instant and electric, and she wants to fall into his arms and sleep, but she lets Gretel take her to the couch in the other room, and bundles her up in blankets, and Rowan falls into a deep and easy sleep almost immediately.

~

Rowan awakens hours later to what sounds like laughter, and as the grogginess begins to fade, she realises it is laughter, the purest kind.

She feels sticky and sore as she rises from the couch and trudges towards her bedroom, to shower and join the festivities. The hot water is amazingly soothing, and she can’t help but be excited to see the man she raised from the dead hours before.

The silk dress feels otherworldly on her skin as she slips it on, watching as the gown flows onto the floor, she wraps her matching robe around herself and reattaches her pendant; a sigil for the coven and hers is green while the rest of the women are red. She is the most powerful.

“Are you feeling better?” Rowan shrieks at the voice, turning to see the tall, blonde all-American man standing before her. She suddenly feels incredibly exposed, and that isn’t a feeling that overcomes Rowan often.

“Much,” She tells him, blushing under his gaze. “Do you feel better?”

“I feel alive, so that’s a start,” He laughs, and she smiles at the sound, deep and manly, and she’s suddenly overcome with the want for him to take to her to bed.

It’s almost as if he hears her thoughts, as he moves towards her, boxing her in against the wall, his hands moving to rub across the top of her cleavage, and sparks begin to zap through them.

Gasping, he asks, “Is it normal for you to be connected to people you bring back?” She tilts her head to look him in the eye and sees the dashing blue that overcomes his iris.

“Yes, but I wasn’t the only one that brought you back,” Rowan informs him, pressing her hands into his clothed chest, and rubbing her way up to muscles protruding in his shoulders. He frowns and wraps his arms around her waist, bringing her flush against him.

“Then who else did?”

“Spirits, who gifted me their help for a while. A connection is rare in this case,” She tells him honestly, and she knows why they are so connected, and almost electric connection, because they were connected in his past life, and now his new beginning has brought them to a whole new connection, one of magic.

“I want you,” he says suddenly, and her mouth falls open because she wants him too, in more ways than she had thought. “I want you with me.”

“I want to be with you,” She agrees, brushing a hand over his cheek, and she knows what she needs to do.

A coven is only as strong as its women, therefore the more distracted the woman, the weaker the coven. During the initiation, the witch is only given the sigil if they pledge their life to the coven, and commit to a life of loneliness. It’s the code of the witch, and you must follow it if you wish to remain in the coven.

In the moment, looking into the eyes of the man she felt such a deep want for, she broke the pledge and committed to this man with her heart and her body, and she felt the connection with her sister wither and die.

“Let’s go away together, away from the evil and the coven and just be with each other,” Rowan insists and Steve smiles, she knows he feels it too; the connection they share and how strong it is, the binding instant love for one another.

“Tonight?” Steve asks smile wide on his lips and his eyes filled with love and adoration.

“Tonight,” Rowan confirmed and the plan went into action, without a destination in mind, or a care in the world, she begins to pack; shoving clothing into bags and writing a note for her sisters, laying her sigil on top of it.

Rowan embraces Steve as he finishes putting her bags into her car, and she looks up into his eyes and knows that there is love behind them, an undisguisable infatuation that she knows will undoubtedly blossom into passionate, indestructible love.

“We should go before they stop me,” Rowan tells him, looking into the blue of his eyes, and imagines the beaches in Italy, a still bright blue, brushing against the sandiness of his skin and the kindness of his soul.

“Not before this,” Steve tells her and is pulling her flush against his chest and kissing her with all his might. His mouth still tastes like the pine from the potion, but she doesn’t mind. His mouth is hot and his lips are soft, and she feels the electricity run up her spine and into his lips. Their embrace is tight and passionate, and he curls his hand around the back of her head and smiles into their kiss, she rubs her hands over his back and they share this moment for a while.

“We better go,” He says finally, and breaks the embrace between them. Rowan nods and they get into her car, he drives most of the way and she feels her powers falter the further away she gets from her sisters.

As the coven’s house gets further away, Steve reaches over and takes Rowan’s hand into his. She looks to the man that is comforting her as she leaves her last twenty years behind and moves to start a new life, like she helped him do today.

The airport is bustling when they arrive, and they decide to buy Steve some clothes, and as they hold hands in front of the departure and arrival screens, attempting to decide, a new departure pops up.

“Ireland?” Rowan asks, looking up at the screen, before turning to the man beside her. His eyes follow hers as they look to him, and he smiles wide and the decision is made.

“Let’s go,” Steve decides, jumping up and going to buy the tickets, leaving Rowan to sit and wait, thinking about the life they’re about to start together.

She watches him talk to the lady and watches him lean against the counter, his muscular body glorious, and his blonde hair a little too long and scruffy.

She feels an adoration for him, and she knows that he returns it. She knows that they will have a wonderfully beautiful life together, and she can’t wait to start it.

Steve returns with the tickets in hand, and a departure time of three hours from now, and she uses the time to her advantage.

“I know it’s crazy to want to be with someone when you’ve known them for less than a day,” He says, reading her mind. They both feel it, the connection, uncanny, but also the doubt that this might just be infatuation and nothing more.

“If I’ve learnt anything from my life as a witch, that the craziest of things can be the most real,” Rowan comforts him, placing her hand on his knee. He nods, understanding, and maybe this can be a good thing for them.

“I’ve lived my entire life fighting for the world, and I never thought about myself, until now,” He tells her, leaning to rub his lips lightly on the corner of her mouth, before slotting his mouth with hers. She cradles his face in her hands as he wraps his arms around her, and the connection they feel, the spark of a new love is incredible, and as they break and talk and laugh; they both know that love is a real possibility here and Ireland is the only thing missing.

~

“Daddy!” Lavender yells, running across the lawn as her dad gets out of the car. A wide grin on his face as he embraces his little girl, kissing across her face he sees his wife lean against the bannister on the porch and watch the embrace between father and daughter.

“Have you been good for mummy?” He asks his daughter as he shuts his door and walks to his wife with his daughter in his arms.

“Yes! We played board games and we had peanut butter sandwiches for lunch,” His little daughter told him, as he makes his way up to porch towards his wife.

“Peanut butter? Wow!” He indulges his daughter, moving to kiss his wife, looking at her beauty as she leans to him, and presses her lips to his.

“How was your day?” She asks her husband and he smiles, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and moving them to walk inside the house, the house they share in Kilkenny.

“Great, my beautiful Rowan,” Steve says as he places their daughter down, and moves to pull his wife to him, kissing her with all his might, and she felt like it was their first all over again.

~

Rowan awakes to the sound of laughter, she looks down at herself and sees the blankets, the warmth surrounding her.

“Are you feeling better?” She hears, to her surprise she sees Steve and suddenly realises all that, what felt like real life was a dream.

“Much,” She replies, smiling, and sitting up. “Do you feel better?”

“I feel alive, so that’s a start,” He replies, and Rowan stops, and looks at the man, the man with eyes of Italian oceans, and smiles.

She smiles up at her sandy man, because one day, she will call him her husband, knowing that her dream wasn’t just a dream, but a vision.

With that, she throws herself into his arms, forgetting about the vision because her fate with Steve is sealed.


End file.
